


Mystrade through early Jazz

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Again, Alternating Perspectives, Angst, Early Jazz, Fluff, Inspired by Music, M/M, Old Hollywood - Freeform, because symmetry, old broadway, swing music
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-25
Updated: 2014-10-25
Packaged: 2018-02-22 13:42:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2509826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft and Lestrade through various early jazz/old showtunes/swing songs. Difficult to explain. Not a big deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alone With My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lyricalsoul](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalsoul/gifts).



> I'm a silly billy. This is pretty dumb. Apologies.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is "Alone with My Dreams" from A Man from Mayfair. Jack Buchanan's rendition is a favorite of mine. It honestly doesn't sound as angsty as the actual chapter wanted to be sorry I don't make the rules
> 
> "I live alone with my dreams/  
> ...  
> I'd like to join in a theme/  
> With someone with a dream/  
> Like mine"

Mycroft was lonely. There was no way around it. He'd avoided admitting it for a while, thinking he could manage for the rest of forever on his own. Or, not really thinking about that at all. He had things to do, Countries to run. No time to tarry about with all the companionship nonce. 

But now his opted solitude was creating a pressure in his chest. It made his eyes a bit more likely to water. It was altogether an unpleasant phenomena. 

He supposed he would have to find something. A good film, maybe? A pastry? 

Oh, who was he fooling. Not himself. He'd have to find a... a friend! Ah but if he's to get himself a goldfish, it must at the least be a noble one. A goldfish with aspirations. A goldfish with dreams.

Mycroft sighed and shook his head before returning to his paperwork.


	2. You Go To My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is "You go to my head" by Haven Gillespie and J Fred Coots, and was recorded by Billie Holiday, Jan Savitt and his orchestra, and many others, I'm sure
> 
> "You go to my head/  
> You linger like a haunting refrain/  
> And I find you spinning round/  
> In my brain/  
> Like the bubbles in a glass of champagne/  
> You go to my head"
> 
> "Still I say to myself/  
> Get ahold of yourself/  
> Can't you see/  
> that it never can be/  
> You go to my head with a smile/  
> That makes my temperature rise/  
> Like a summer with a thousand Julys/  
> You intoxicate my soul with your eyes/  
> Though I'm certain that this heart of mine/  
> Hasn't a ghost of a chance/  
> In this crazy romance/  
> You go to my head/  
> You go to my head"

He came in sometimes for business. Sherlock-related business. And that is gross.

Their first couple of meetings were hardly very memorable. Simply short and serious. Greg's position made it so there were many people he had met only a few times. It also made it so he had sat through many serious meetings. These things were not strange. 

What was strange was how often he thought of Mr. Holmes. Not the younger one. Again, gross. 

It wasn't startling thoughts. Normal ones. 'I wonder what he's doing right now' or 'when will I see him next' and 'does he like coffee' or 'is he colourblind'. Normal things.

It wasn't a startling number of times. It wasn't an obsession. It just was higher than average. Nothing to worry about.

This continued for a few months. 

The next time Lestrade saw him was, again, a terribly boring meeting. He knew it wouldn't be long (they never were) so he tried to power through it, but he couldn't keep his mind from wandering.

"Are you colourblind?" he blurted out.

Mycroft blinked. "Ah, yes. But I would hope you to have greater concerns than my daltonism. Back to the matter at hand?"

He cleared his throat before saying 'of course' very seriously. He daydreamed the rest of the meeting. 

"Take care of the city, Detective Inspector." Mycroft said as he left.

Lestrade didn't respond, as he was too busy trying to convince himself that dichromatism isn't sexy.


	3. It Isn't Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is "It Isn't Fair" by Richard Himber. A sweet song that makes me flutter.
> 
> "It isn't fair for you to taunt me  
> How can you make me care this way  
> It isn't fair for you to want me  
> If it's just for a day
> 
> It isn't fair for you to thrill me  
> Why do you do the things you do  
> It isn't fair for you to fill me  
> With those dreams that can't come true, dear"

He'd asked him if he was colourblind. Why?

Mycroft sighed and took off his tie. It was red. He knew it was red because he organized his ties in a very specific way. 

He knew it was red. He did not know why the DI asked him an unimportant, irrelevant, and personal question. And he didn't know why he'd answered it.

He sighed again (was every breath destined to become a sigh?) and got a drink from the fridge. He had many things to think about, yet he continued to think about Gregory Lestrade. The way his face lit up slightly when he asked him that... Question. What information was he vying for? It all seemed utterly pointless. 

His conclusion was that Gregory Lestrade was curious and perhaps wanted to be friends. As if by coincidence, earlier that week Mycroft had decided to make some friends and now he concluded, with little fanfare, that Gregory Lestrade was a fine choice to become friends with.

He turned over in his silk and curled his toes tighter to his foot. He had no idea why.


	4. Birds of Different Feathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is "So the Bluebirds and the Blackbirds Got Together." A cool song that's surprisingly modern.
> 
> " the bluebird said 'we gotta have sunny weather'/  
> So the bluebirds and the blackbirds got together./  
> The blackbird said 'we're birds of a different feather'/  
> So the bluebirds and the blackbirds got together."
> 
> Okay okay I needed a filler chapter so let's pretend that fits.

Greg waited impatiently for the next time he'd see Mycroft Holmes. At one point he even considered provoking Sherlock into doing something stupid so as to abridge the wait. This thought was dismissed, as one never needed to encourage Sherlock Holmes to do stupid things, he just DID them. And Greg loved him for it.

When the moment finally arose, he almost ruined it by seeming too eager. Or, at least it felt that way. 

"Before we actually talk about anything serious, I'd like to ask you to go with me for drinks sometime."

"Why, Detective Inspector, why would you consider that not to be serious?" Mycroft sat calmly, trying not to show how confused he was. He had, in fact, been aiming to strike up a friendship with the Inspector for a)his ability to understand the concept of something being confidential, b)his ability to tolerate Sherlock, and c) his implacable charm, but had next to no idea how to achieve the goal. He had learned from experience that intimidating people into friendship isn't very effective. Poor John still grimaces at him every time they meet, and he possessed both a and b of above. A good ally to have, if any.

"Because I don't see you as the type to go to a pub."

"Then, perhaps, I might consider your proposal a quite serious one. We are, after all, very different people." 

Mycroft hoped his nervous filler response didnt throw Lestrade off. He wasn't nervous often, nor did he hope every day. 

'What a strange effect this man has on you' Mycroft scolded himself, 'perhaps you shouldn't accept his offer'

"I accept your offer. Now, uh, back to the matter at hand?"

Mycroft pretended not to notice the other's grin.


	5. I Double Dare You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is "I Double Dare You"
> 
> This and the next one were the main inspiration for this project because the bouncing coyness of this song and the restrained infelicita of the other were what defined this relationship for me. (Maybe that will make more sense later)
> 
> "If I should say the night is grand/  
> Would you demand the proof/  
> Of would you be indifferent and aloof/
> 
> You seem to think that half aloof  
> Is better than none  
> So maybe that's the reason  
> We're not having any fun
> 
> I double dare you to sit over here  
> I double dare you to lend me your ear.  
> Take off your high hat, and let's get friendly  
> Don't be a scaredy cat   
> Say what do you care  
> Can't you take a dare?
> 
> I double dare you to kiss me, and then  
> I double dare you to kiss me again.  
> And if that look in your eyes means what I'm thinkin' of,  
> I double dare you to fall in love with me   
> I double dare you.
> 
> If I should try to read your mind  
> Would I be up a tree  
> I wish I knew   
> Just what you think of me"

The night had come. The plans were made. As Greg had suspected, Mycroft needed more concrete plans than any other date. Meeting. 

He wasn't sure how to define it, and he wasn't sure how the other half of it felt comfortable defining it. So, he decided to play it a little safe by going somewhere not entirely... casual? There was more calculation in this than Greg was accustomed to. He wasn't sure if that's what happens when you care about someone or if that's what happens when the person involved is a Holmes. Greg decided to stop thinking.

Mycroft started by apologizing for being late. Greg looked at his watch to check, as he hasn't been thinking about the time, and discovered that Mycroft was one minute three quarters late. 

Greg felt obligated to inform him that that wasn't late by most people's standards. Mycroft responded by saying that he should know by now that he isn't most people. 

That had been the summation of the man in front of him. He fancied himself pretty good at reading people, it was his job, and all that he had ever been able to really read off of Mycroft Holmes was that he wasn't most people. He wondered if the reason he wanted to know the man was just curiosity, or the policeman's instinctual need to uncover that which is hidden.

Hidden.  
Hidden well. 

His valiant effort to maintain a casual atmosphere led him to have a drink. The drink led him to maybe be a little more lenient with that whole atmosphere nonsense. He certainly wasn't outright drunk, of course. He just was a little flirtier than he might otherwise be.

Mycroft always remained the same. Greg likened him to a publicity shot. He said he was flattered, but still didn't take off whatever mask he always always wore. Greg teased him for it.

As the evening drew itself to a close, Mycroft offered Greg a ride home. Greg agreed, and soon found himself in a very official seeming car. The time from their rendezvous point to his home base flew by because of the person he was sitting beside. He felt a little tingling like his leg had fallen asleep every time he brushed the other's. 

As he was getting out of the car, he somehow found the bravery to turn around and kiss Mycroft Holmes, the British government, full on the lips, leaving him redfaced and maskless.


	6. Love Locked Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is "Love Locked Out" by Ray Noble and M. Lester. All Bowlly has a well-known version, and, of course, there's always Sinatra.
> 
> "Love locked out in all the cold and rain/  
> Love locked out may never come again/  
> Love locked out and weeping bitter tears/  
> But no one ever hears love calling/
> 
> Though we need the precious gift it brings/  
> We don't heed the song of love it sings/  
> On the door, love beats its tiny wings/  
> Just love locked out/
> 
> A world without love is a world without life/  
> A sad world full of gloom/  
> So please make a place there for love in your heart/  
> It doesn't need much room/
> 
> Love is well worth the waiting for/  
> When it comes knocking at your door/  
> Fling it wide, for love locked out will come/  
> No more, no more"

"I knew it was a bad decision." Mycroft thought to himself. "'You'd best not', I'd said. But I didn't listen." He chastised himself throughout his evening ablutions, conveniently ignoring any parts of himself inclined to ask why he'd been so disobedient. 

He looked at himself in the mirror. Post-shower, free from the chaff of the public. He brushed his knuckles across the hem of his mouth and stared pensively into his own reflection.

The Detective Inspector better show remorse for his behavior. That last part, especially. It was deceptive to go through all that just for a kiss. If he wanted one enough to go into such a long con, he could've just grabbed him by the tie at any time—

Mycroft shook his head; he was falling away from the matter at hand. As he passed the door, he considered the various options for reassigning Detective Inspector Lestrade so he wouldn't have to see him ever again. And as he closed it, for whatever inexplicable sentimental reason, he locked it.


	7. The Very Thought of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is "The Very Thought of You", of which Billie Holiday has a popular rendition. 
> 
> "The very thought of you/  
> I forget to do/  
> Those little ordinary things/  
> That everyone ought to do/
> 
> I'm livin' in a kind of a daydream/  
> I'm happy as a queen/  
> And foolish though it may seem/  
> To me that's everything/
> 
> The mere idea of you/  
> The longing here for you/  
> You'll never know/  
> How slow the moments go/  
> Till I'm near to you/
> 
> I see your face in every flower/  
> Your eyes in stars above/  
> It's just the thought of you,/  
> The very thought of you, my love"

Lestrade shut his door and smiled. He sat on the edge of his bed and grinned. He glanced out the window and simpered more than the stars he couldn't see due to light pollution. 

He wondered when this feeling would fade. He hoped it wouldn't. He sat and couldn't think of a thing. And he giggled and he didn't know what to do with himself and he chided his giddiness so he could go to work the next day without losing much respect. He was a copper, and an English one at that; he had to find a way to be more reserved and professional in the next ten hours or so. 

But then he couldn't stop fidgeting and so he drank a strong chamomile, hoping sleep would knock the buzz off. It felt like a couple decades to fall asleep that night, tea or no.


	8. I dreamed that you kissed me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I dreamed that you kissed me"  
> I've heard the Frank Sylvano version most. He puts the warble back in warbler. 
> 
> "Last night I was dreaming/  
> I dreamed that you kissed me/  
> While bright stars were beaming/  
> I dreamed that you kissed me...  
> I must have been dreaming/  
> For I dreamed that you kissed me"
> 
> Yeah yeah so it doesn't fit but what else is new.  
> Do you even realize how many records I had to borrow from the library to find a volta song for this shit? They interrogated me twice. Yeah, bitch, my life is tough.
> 
> As in every relationship, I had to settle. Some other contenders were "I have to drive by your house to get to my house" and "For Sentimental Reasons." The latter might make a chapter later. The former was incorporated to this one.

He got up bright and early. Well, not bright, as it was 4:46, but he had gotten over that irony some thirty years ago. 

4:46? Drat. He'd slept in. 

He put on a good suit because he felt a good, long day of dream crushing was ahead of him. He had to be proper cold and sharp so the broken dreams wouldn't reach up in hope of being revived, replenished, or restored. They'd just lay, spilled on the floor, staining the wood and stinking up the place. Figuratively, of course. Hah, these little ironies are making him feel five years old again. 

Speaking of feeling young again, in an entirely different way, yesterday evening he was kissed. "I must contemplate this in the morning glow like I'd promised myself last night and what is wrong with me my thoughts are running together and my heart is crescendoing like a Russian romantic era symphony why"

He concluded after a bit that he had to had to confront Gregory today. Sooner rather than later. He wouldn't want to crush Lestrade's... however you'd define what that was last night. Hope? Ambition? Bollocks?

For some reason he was struggling getting that turn of phrase out of his head, but went to his office to pretend not to be tired. 

A lot of work got done in those four hours, he almost was able to ignore the need to confront that DI. Work was where he went when his brain needed stimulating. He was at work a lot. 

At 10:02 he appeared at the police station quietly and suavely. He had meant to show up around 10:10 so as to not seem like he wanted to be there. 

He didn't want to be there, though. He had to be there. 

Lestrade looked up from his desk to see just who he had been daydreaming about standing in his doorway. 

"'Ey, Mycroft."  
"Hello, Detective Inspector."  
"What're you doing here?"  
"I have to travel past your office on my way to mine and wanted to let you know some things." 

This obviously wasn't what Lestrade had had in mind when asking that question, and it snapped him out of a daze. 

"What things?"  
"That's never going to happen again."  
"I see."  
"Especially the last part."  
"I see."  
"I have to go now."  
"Do you?"  
"Yes."

He was gone before Lestrade could even collect his thoughts. This complicated things, certainly. 


End file.
